


Black Is Blue

by Worthfull1



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Family, Hurt/Comfort, Non-graphic descriptions of child abuse, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 10:34:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5453525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Worthfull1/pseuds/Worthfull1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You'd have thought they were brothers - James Potter and Sirius Black..." Sirius is able to escape to his new mate James Potter's house during the summer after first year. Eventually, though, he has to go 'home'. That changes when Sirius is sixteen. "You're my son, now," Euphemia Potter tells him and, Merlin help him, he believes her. Rated for brief language, not smut. One-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black Is Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Complete heartbreak here. No sex, no drugs, no rock 'n' roll (or, very little). Just heartbreak.
> 
> Thanks Worthufll1
> 
> P.S. I own nothing, anything recognizable belongs to the lovely Ms. Rowling.

**Black Is Blue**

The first time Sirius Black sees his new mate James Potter's house is during summer break after first year.

Sirius' parents pick him up on Platform 93/4 at then end of the school year, but they make it clear that they only did that because it was their duty. They are thoroughly disappointed in him because of his sorting - so much so that they treat him as an outcast. He is not spoken to during the trip home, he is not welcomed warmly back into the home of his forefathers. He is ignored, the silence at times so loud he wonders which makes his ears hurt more - his family's silence or that muggle music one of the older boys was fond of playing on mornings before Quidditch matches.

Finally, after three whole days, he can't take it anymore.

"It's not my fault that stupid hat put me in the wrong house!" he explodes at his mother as she passes him in the hall outside his room.

The _smack!_ reverberates in the space as her hand connects with his face and he is so confused. The values that his parents have drilled into him since birth have been disproven so many times during his first school year and he has a hard time deciding what is right - his family or his new friends.

There's James Potter, his new partner-in-crime, the boy who helped him make everyone's cauldron explode the day they were learning a rudimentary swelling solution and laughed with him when everyone's noses (including their own) began growing uncontrollably, causing rotund Professor Slughorn to splutter helplessly until finally directing those affected to the hospital wing.

There's Remus Lupin, an odd boy with terrible health which apparently runs in the family, judging by the number of times he has to go home to visit his ailing mother. At his most extroverted he's shy and he sounds at times as though he's swallowed the textbook. But Sirius likes him. Remus is kind and he's the first person to not judge him based on his last name. _'It's just a name,'_ is Remus' response to Sirius trying to explain why the Slytherins were giving him the stink-eye, and a friendship was formed.

There's also Peter Pettigrew, a short, plump boy who's main function seems to be telling Sirius and James how funny and brilliant they are. He gets a little tiresome at times, but he's sensitive and Sirius kind of likes the thought of someone needing him, if only for hiding behind. He feels a responsibility for Pete similar to the one he feels for his brother Reg, but something tells him he won't be able to protect Reg much longer.

Of course, being ignored is really nothing new for the young Black heir. He knows he is simply the product of an attempt to keep the bloodline going. He is not the result of passion or love or devotion. He exists to further the line, not to be doted on or spoiled. He knows this. He's been told this. By the two people responsible for producing him. Sirius can count on one hand the number of times his mother has raised her hand in kindness to him, and they've all been when other people were around. His father is no better. _'You are the heir to the noble and ancient House of Black. Start acting like it!'_ is the closest thing to an _'atta-boy'_ he's ever heard.

Sirius retreats to his bedroom and in a fit of frustrated, not-entirely-understood anger and resentment, he pulls out the wand he knows he's not supposed to use outside of Hogwarts grounds and charms his walls red and gold. He does the same with the hangings around his large, four-poster bed and even with his sheets. Panting, but steadfastly keeping the tears at bay, he flops down on his newly re-decorated bed and only then notices the owl fluttering outside the window.

Recognizing the Potter's bird, he rushes to let the regal-looking, snowy owl in. Agrippa is pure white, a colour Sirius now associates with a smiling James, numerous sugary treats and words of affection and encouragement. Just the sight of the animal raises his dark mood. His name is on the front of the letter the owl is carrying and Sirius recognizes his mate's messy scrawl.

_Mate!_

_James here. Look, Mum and Dad want to know if your folks would let you come stay with us for a bit over the summer. It'll be great! We'll play Quidditch in the fields behind my place and stay up all night long and get Topsy and Tipsy to make us treacle tart! I've written Remus and Pete, too, but they've got family stuff all summer long. Please try to come! Please please please!_

_James_

_P.S. Topsy and Tipsy are our house-elves._

_P.P.S. Mum says she's writing directly to your parents. She says they might respond better if the person writing sounds sane. Dunno what that means._

Sirius breathes deep and, against his better judgement, a small bubble of hope begins to form in his chest. Just reading his mate's chicken scratch handwriting brings him a little peace. It hadn't all been a dream. He _had_ gone to school and he _had_ made friends. Friends who _like_ him. Friends who keep him around because they want him there and not because he's representing an ancient bloodline. A small smile forms, then disappears as he realizes his parents have to okay this stay.

Two weeks later, the impossible happens. Sirius is packed and ready to go James Potter's house for the remainder of the summer. Nearly six weeks of Quidditch, no sleep and endless amounts of treacle tart! He's cautious, though. Afraid that if his parents see how much he's looking forward to this that they'll take it away from him. Reg is not happy. He wants Sirius to stay. He's been alone with their parents for months and somehow Reg knows he's not going to end up in Gryffindor with Sirius. He wants to have these last weeks with his brother. But Sirius assures him that he'll meet him at King's Cross on September first and Reg pouts, but says no more.

Stepping out of the fireplace, Sirius enters Potter Manor. James has described the place pretty well, he decides, as he takes in the ample comfort of the dwelling. The fire he's come through in in the library and his eyes sweep over numerous plush armchairs, decadently stuffed sofas, small tables beside each for setting down drinks and books and wall-to-wall, wall-to-ceiling bookshelves that he's immediately curious to sift through.

A throat clears and he turns to find a middle-aged witch looking at him with a rather amused expression on her face. Her clothes are finely made and her jewelry speaks of money, but she wears both with a relaxed, almost careless air. It is so understated and her posture is so warm and welcoming that it strikes him that this woman is _nothing_ like his mother and he likes her immediately. He decides he wants her to like him, too, so he tries his best formal greeting.

Ducking his head in deference to age, he introduces himself. "Sirius Orion the third of House Black, ma'am. It is a pleasure to be invited into your home."

Hazel eyes widen and surprise mixes with the amusement as the witch's mouth twitches. "Well! That's quite impressive, I must say, Sirius Orion the third of House Black. I haven't seen a display like that since James father was courting me." She leans towards him and speaks low. "How about I call you Sirius and you call me Mrs. Potter?" she says with an air of playful conspiracy that makes Sirius feel like he's in on a plot of some mischief, and he realizes she's teasing him.

He grins at her a little nervously. "Alright... Mrs. Potter."

She winks at him and straightens. "Is this everything?" she asks, nodding to the trunk and broomstick he brought through with him. He replies in the affirmative and she flicks her wand, levitating the heavy trunk. "Come, I'll show you to your bedroom," she says, turning and leading him out of the library, down a long hall and up a flight of stairs. The house is spacious and comfortable and, although large enough to qualify for it's title of 'manor', it feels very intimate and happy.

"I - I thought James said you had house-elves?" Sirius asks hesitatingly, still not quite sure of the protocol of the house.

"We do," Mrs. Potter replies simply. "But I enjoy greeting our guests. I like knowing who is in our home." She leads Sirius into a large bedroom with a bed much like his own at Grimmauld Place, but the sheets are a nice, pale blue instead of dark greens and black. There is a huge picture window looking out onto the grounds and the whole room is light and airy. It is so different from the imposing, suffocating atmosphere he's used to and he feels himself relax even more.

"Thank you for letting me stay, Mrs. Potter," he says.

She smiles at him, a warm, motherly smile. "You're very welcome, Sirius. I daresay James would be very bored indeed with only myself and his father as company. We aren't exactly as young and light-footed as we used to be. I'm sure you two will wear each other out nicely. Tipsy!" she calls, summoning one of the elves.

A _crack!_ is heard and a small elf in a toga-like white garment appears. "Mistress called for Tipsy?" she squeaks.

"This is Sirius Black, Tipsy. He is James' best friend and you will treat him as you would James," she directs the elf and Sirius can't help but dwell on the word _'best'_. He's never been anyone's _'best'_ anything, and it sounds like a tall order, but he finds he desperately wants to try.

"Yes, Mistress Euphemia," Tipsy bows and snaps her fingers, the contents of Sirius' trunk unpacking themselves and finding new homes in the armoire that sits in the corner of the room.

"Have you had lunch, Sirius?" Mrs. Potter asks. Sirius shakes his head and right on cue, his stomach grumbles. He colours slightly, but James' mother just smiles at him. "We will be four for lunch, Tipsy," she orders and Tipsy bows again and disapparates. "Well, Sirius, why don't we head downstairs? I'm not sure where James has gotten to, but - "

A sharp rapping on the window interrupts her and they both look to see James on his broom hovering just outside and waving madly. Sirius' smile is wide as Mrs. Potter waves her wand, opening the window and letting her son in.

"James, you will dismount that broomstick immediately!" Mrs. Potter exclaims as James swoops in. "What is the flying rule?"

" _'You may fly in to the house, but you may not fly inside the house,'_" James recites dutifully, clambering off his broom somewhat less gracefully than he flew it. "Sirius, mate! You're here!" he shouts, running over and punching Sirius in the arm in greeting. "Is that your broom? Excellent! We'll go flying and I'll show you the property and we'll play a little Quidditch but it won't be real Quidditch, of course, 'cause we can't use real Bludgers or a Snitch or anything, but we'll figure it out and - "

"And first," Mrs. Potter interrupts, "you will wash up and head down for lunch. Because Quidditch simply cannot be played at all on empty stomachs, Bludgers or not, and Sirius and I are quite famished, aren't we Sirius?"

"Yes, ma'am," Sirius replies enthusiastically.

Mrs. Potter chuckles. "James, show Sirius where the bathroom is and then come downstairs."

"Yes, Mum. Mum, can we eat outside today? It's a great day outside!"

"Is that alright with you, Sirius?" she asks and Sirius is taken aback at the thought that his opinion matters but nods anyway. "I'll ask Tipsy to set us up on the veranda, then," she says and, with an elegant swish of her robes, disapparates, leaving the two boys to themselves.

James suggests that Sirius change into jeans and a t-shirt before lunch so they can go flying right after and Sirius sheds his robes without thinking, revealing the long, thin cut on his back that his cousin Bellatrix gave him just a week ago during a family get-together when it was revealed Sirius had been sorted into Gryffindor. His mother had ignored this as well, so the cut was not healing properly because Sirius couldn't reach it to tend to it himself and he didn't want to involve Reg.

"There's some dittany in the bathroom," James says after Sirius begrudgingly tells him the story. "That'll help."

"We don't have to tell your Mum, do we?" Sirius asks, not wanting to bring attention to it. It's _his_ burden.

"Nah, mate. 'Course not," James assures him.

The bathroom is located, the dittany applied and by the time he and James make it down to the veranda, James has changed the subject and Sirius has forgotten completely about his family. The boys approach the lunch-laden table where James' mother is seated with an older man with greying hair that's been slicked back with what Sirius recognizes as Sleekeazy's hair potion.

"Hi, Dad!" James greets the man. "This is Sirius, Dad," he adds, making the introduction as only a twelve-year-old boy can do.

"Oh, he's much more than that, Fleamont," Mrs. Potter cuts in, before Sirius can introduce himself properly. "This is Sirius Orion the third of House Black, dear," she says, throwing a wink at Sirius. Sirius flushes as James' father laughs.

"Is it now? D'you know, that's the same way I introduced myself to Euphemia. I thought a formal gesture would be appreciated. I was wrong, but I didn't know any other way to flirt with her," he says, shaking Sirius hand. "You wouldn't be trying to flirt with my wife, now would you?"

Sirius knows he's being teased, but he still shakes his head. "No, sir."

"Sit, sit, sit!" Mr. Potter waves the boys into chairs as Tipsy and another elf appear with pitchers of water and lemonade. "Thank you, Topsy," he says as the second elf fills his glass.

The lunch is beautifully plated - the china gleams, the crystal sparkles and the silver shines, but somehow it all seems like the most informal meal Sirius has ever sat down to, aside from Hogwarts. He lays his napkin across his knee like he's been taught to and tucks in elegantly, in sharp contrast to James, who begins shoveling food into his mouth with the same lack of grace he'd displayed dismounting his broomstick.

"James, dear, you were given teeth for a reason," his mother prompts, causing the boy in question to look up from his plate which, in turn, makes Sirius laugh out loud at the chipmunk cheeks protruding from his mate's face.

Mr. Potter, too, finds this amusing and laughs with Sirius as his son makes a show of exaggerated chewing while narrowing his eyes at his friend and father. James' mother also makes them wait nearly an hour after lunch before they can go flying because she doesn't want any upset stomachs. _This,_ Sirius thinks, _is how a mother should be._ He becomes more and more comfortable over that hour, until the subject of his family comes up.

"I'm curious, Sirius," James' father starts, "how did your family take it when they learned you'd been sorted somewhere other than Slytherin?"

The question is innocent enough, but the answer isn't and Sirius is suddenly ashamed of his family. He stumbles and stutters around an answer before James comes to his rescue.

"They didn't take it well, Dad," James says simply, making it clear it's a touchy subject.

There's that deafening silence again, and Sirius tries his hardest to not squirm in his seat as he feels colour spreading treacherously up his face.

"Hmm," Mr. Potter breaks the silence. "Well, that's too bad. No matter, though, Gryffindors are always welcome here, Sirius - as are you."

Sirius gapes at him. "That's very kind of you, sir, but you hardly know me."

"That may be, Sirius," Mr. Potter agrees, "but I am no longer a young man. I have known many people in my life, both good and bad, and I like to think that I am a pretty decent judge of character. You may not have said much in the couple of hours you've been here, but I fancy myself that I've learned quite a bit about you. I've also had the... _pleasure_...," he stresses the word carefully, "of meeting not only your parents but several of your relatives over the years and while I will admit there are a few I would not care to invite into my home much less spend a leisurely lunch with, I see something different in you." Fleamont Potter looks Sirius directly in the eye. "You are welcome here."

"Thank you, sir," Sirius mumbles, understanding only half of what the man had just said to him, but having the distinct feeling that he's just been complimented.

This sets the tone for the rest of Sirius' summer. He is surrounded by encouragement, happiness, love - everything that he'd never had before and he thinks about being jealous of his best mate, but he can't quite manage it. In the same breath the Mr. Potter uses to praise his son's flying, he also congratulates Sirius on a near-perfect diving catch. Mrs. Potter kisses her son goodnight, then leaves a lip-print on Sirius' forehead as well. How could he be jealous of something he now shares in?

The first hug is a bit awkward, as Sirius isn't quite sure how to go about it, having only hugged Reg in the past and only when his brother was upset about something. He hadn't been aware that hugs were given as a sign of affection or for no reason at all, and if he hadn't witnessed Mrs. Potter hug James first, he might have dodged out of her way when she moved towards him with arms outstretched.

He does flinch rather violently one time when Mr. Potter's hand comes out of nowhere to suddenly appear at the side of his head and Sirius' instinct tells him to jump. Mr. Potter pauses and gives him a piercing look, but says nothing, simply tucking a lock of Sirius' hair behind his ear and marveling at the texture. As it turns out, Fleamont Potter is the inventor of Sleekeazy's and James' unruly mop is, unfortunately, hereditary. 'The Potter Plague', as Mrs. Potter refers to it, and Sirius laughs as Mr. Potter describes in detail what he looks like in the morning before he's had a chance to tame the beast.

By the time he travels with the Potters to King's Cross Station, he's feeling lighter than ever. There's a spring in his step and a slightly cocky attitude similar to James' is starting to develop.

Other things are starting to develop as well.

Mr. Potter makes several favourable remarks about Sirius' hair during his stay with them and when they all go to Diagon Alley to get their school supplies, Sirius notices a few girls staring at him in different shops. He smiles at the first and she blushes and looks away quickly. He's confused by this. _Doesn't she want my attention if she's staring at me?_ he wonders, but the third time it happens that day, he decides it's just something girls do that he doesn't understand.

He mentions this phenomenon to Mr. Potter as they are trying on new robes and Mr. Potter laughs and shares a few secrets of life with him. He explains that girls get shy like that when they think a young man is handsome and that Sirius should get used to it because he's a good-looking bloke. After that, it turns into a game. Sirius uses his smile on every female he comes across and takes mental notes on the ones that blush. He's astounded at the ones he recognizes from school and even more amazed at the blushes he gets from girls older than him.

However, as soon as he crosses the barrier and steps onto Platform 93/4, he's looking around anxiously, trying to find his younger brother. He doesn't spot his parents anywhere, so he figures Reg must already be on the train. He says 'goodbye' and 'thank you' to James' parents, receiving a hug from each and a kiss from Mrs. Potter. They both remind him that he's welcome to come and stay anytime and they hope he comes for Christmas this year as he stayed at the school the year before.

Trunks are loaded and kids are boarded and the train pulls out of the station. He and James make their way down, looking for Remus and Peter and also keeping an eye out for Reg. They find their dorm-mates quickly and Sirius tells James to go ahead and sit down, he'll find his brother on his own. James asks if he's sure and Sirius nods, and Remus suggests that Sirius bring Reg back to their compartment when he finds him. Sirius thinks that's an excellent idea and resumes his search.

He finds Reg in a compartment a little further down the train with several older Slytherins. Sirius beams at him, but Reg smiles politely, almost as though Sirius is a stranger to him. Reg inquires about his stay at the Potters' and tells Sirius he had a good rest of the summer, too. Sirius asks him to come and sit with him and his friends in the other compartment, but Reg refuses. He says he's fine where he is and Sirius feels a pain in his chest. The older kids Reg is sitting with are not nice people. They're purebloods, sure, and most likely a more appropriate choice of company in their mother's opinion, but they are not _nice_.

Sirius asks Reg again to come and sit with him and again Reg refuses. Sirius respects his brother's wishes and walks back to his own compartment, dejected. It gets worse when Reg is sorted into Slytherin. Sirius can feel the break in their relationship and he wonders if he shouldn't have stayed at home for the summer rather than going to James'. He says this out loud and his friends are quick with words of comfort.

"It's just a House, mate," James says. "He's still your brother. There's been tons of siblings at Hogwarts that get sorted into different Houses."

"It has nothing to do with you, Sirius," Remus assures him. "This is _his_ Sorting, not yours."

"Yeah, don't worry about it, mate," Pete echoes.

* * *

 

The second time Sirius visits James' house is during Christmas of their second year.

James tells him to invite Reg as well since Sirius is still not okay with Reg's Sorting. Predictably, Reg turns the offer down while at the same time telling Sirius that their mother is fine with Sirius not coming home with Reg. Reg tries to spin it as gently as possible, but the message is clear: you may be the heir to the noble and ancient House of Black, but you're not one of _us_ anymore.

Sirius is hurt at first, but he soon finds that he cares less and less as he helps Mrs. Potter string fairly lights around the tree and they both tease James about his new infatuation with Lily Evans. Apparently the youngest Potter is a glutton for punishment, Sirius tells Mrs. Potter, because all Evans does is hex James left and right and all he can think to do is try to get ever closer to her, which angers her further and leads to yet another hex.

The boys drink hot cocoa and tease each other and it always ends in a wrestling match that the adults watch with amusement and Sirius somehow doesn't feel like a 'guest' anymore. He feels as at home at Potter Manor as he does at Hogwarts. The bedroom he stayed in during the summer is the one he occupies again now and he gets the distinct impression that no one has slept there since he did months earlier.

On Christmas morning presents are opened, piles of wrapping paper litter the floor, hugs and kisses are exchanged in affection and gratitude and Sirius and James decide that the weather is good enough for Quidditch. It's not, and Mrs. Potter tells them so but Mr. Potter knows that boys need to figure some things out on their own, so he lets them go and when two nearly-frozen teenagers stomp back in with chattering teeth and running noses, Mr. Potter sends them to his wife, whose eyebrow remains cocked at an 'I told you so' angle for the next several days as the boys fight head colds.

Sirius doesn't even notice that none of his presents are from his own family.

* * *

 

The pattern is repeated the next three summers and the next two Christmases, but on the third Christmas - Christmas of fifth year - things are different.

Sirius turns sixteen in October of his fifth year and that December his father writes him. He is not to go to the Potters' for Christmas break. He is to come 'home'. It is not a request, it is an order and one that makes the otherwise cocksure teenager's blood run cold.

He has managed, for the most part, to hide the bruises and cuts he arrives with every summer, but he suspects the Potters know. They are smart people, after all, and would hardly fail to notice the fact that the supply of dittany in the boys' bathroom has to be replaced every second of September. He feels sure that Mrs. Potter stared at him just a second longer than necessary last summer when Sirius whimpered involuntarily as the hug he was pulled into put pressure on his injured ribs. He was able to pass it off as a cough, and she said nothing but, then again, she didn't have to.

He doesn't want the Potters to know. It's _his_ burden, not theirs, and he's already so indebted to them he doesn't think he could handle owing them more. It doesn't matter that he thinks of James' parents as his parents now and it doesn't matter that Mr. and Mrs. Potter never miss a chance to let him know they _like_ acting as his parents. It certainly doesn't matter that he has to remind himself to call them 'Mr.' and 'Mrs. Potter' instead of 'Mum' and 'Dad' like James does and it doesn't matter that when he comes close to slipping up and calling them 'Mum' and 'Dad', they never correct him.

So he goes back to Grimmauld Place for fifth year Christmas as ordered, fully intending to spend as little time as possible there and slip off to James' as soon as he can so he can have at least a somewhat normal holiday.

But it is not to be.

It's the hardest thing he's had to do in his life so far - including animagus transformation - when he smiles at Mr. and Mrs. Potter as he steps off the train, but turns away from them to follow Reg and goes with his parents instead. They do not speak to him and he does not speak to them, but he does try to catch Reg's eye. When he succeeds, his fear heightens. His brother tries, and fails, to smile at him and Sirius knows that _Reg_ knows what's going on.

Due to his new senses (one of his favourite things about being an animagus), he can practically smell the tension in his brother. Regulus Black - second born, who's made a very good show of acting the perfect pureblood son and trying to restore the family's good name after the disappointment of his older brother - is nervous and fidgety as the 'family' enters the ancestral home and it makes Sirius nervous and fidgety as well.

The silence is back, the same one that greeted him the summer after first year and his disastrous Sorting. It permeates everything and Sirius feels cold. Not cold because it's December and the old house is drafty - no, he's cold on the _inside_ , there's cold in his blood and in his bones and no matter how many blankets he uses that first night back 'home', he gets no sleep because he's just so _cold._

The next morning Orion informs his first-born son that Grimmauld Place will be hosting a Christmas party in a week's time and Sirius is required to attend. Dress robes will be worn as will the family ring. It is time, Orion says, for Sirius to choose a bride and only the best and oldest pureblood families have been invited. Sirius is assured that there will be someone there who catches his eye.

"After all," his mother begins coldly, "we know it's not exactly hard to catch your eye. At least, this time, you'll be picking from a pool of worthy matches, not like the trash you've been sullying yourself with in every nook and cranny of the school." She fixes a hateful eye on him and Sirius is livid, a retort falling from his lips before he even realizes he's opened his mouth.

"Just been doing my job, Mother," Sirius answers scathingly. "Aren't I supposed to ensure the line? Isn't that what I was bred to do? Fuck, there could be half a dozen little Black brats growing as we speak! I'd best be careful or we'll be overrun!"

He says it purely to get a rise out of her because, while he may be reckless, the one thing he has never forgotten is the contraception spell.

Sirius' body freezes and he realizes he's been placed under a full body-bind. His father stands up and calmly makes his way around the table to stand in front of the heir, passing his seething mother on the way. Orion's eyes are cold and distant and Sirius tries to mentally prepare himself for whatever punishment may come. Orion leans down, bringing his face close and placing his hands on Sirius' wrists that lay on the arms of his chair in a blatant display of power, chilling in it's pointlessness as Sirius is still under the _Petrificus Totalis_.

"You will cease these... _interludes_... when you go back to the school. You will renounce those... _creatures_... you call friends - yes, I know about Lupin," he states calmly as Sirius' eyes flash. "You will end these childish games you've been playing with us and you will re-direct your energies into becoming the heir to House Black. You _will_ attend this Christmas party and you _will_ choose a bride or, so help me, I will undo the wrong I did when I impregnated your mother with you."

Orion's voice is but a whisper at the end, but Sirius' canine hearing picks it up loud and clear. Sirius looks into the features so like his own - grey eyes, chiseled jaw and cheekbones, aristocratic nose - and he recognizes none of it. He is afraid, truly afraid, that his father will make good on this threat and even when Orion straightens and releases him from the body-bind, Sirius doesn't move. He can't, and Orion takes it as a sign that he's finally gotten through to the boy.

"Go to your room," Orion orders, and Sirius obeys as though under the Imperious Curse.

His mind is foggy, replaying his fathers words over and over again. _'I will undo the wrong I did... undo the wrong I did... undo...'_ Sirius can't help but think his father meant what he said. He walks into his room and his consciousness clears as the door closes without him touching it and wards go up. Sirius shouts and pulls at the door, twisting the handle, but it won't give no matter how much pressure he applies. He takes several steps back and rushes the door, throwing his weight at it and achieving nothing but an aching shoulder.

Sirius pulls his wand out and tries every counter-spell and counter-hex he can think of but this is something different. This is Dark Magic, he can tell, and he doesn't know enough about Dark Magic to be able to dismantle this ward. Finally, he tries something drastic and very dangerous. He stands in the middle of his bedroom and takes a few deep breaths, concentrating very hard on a particular place and turns sharply on the spot.

Nothing happens. It doesn't work.

He didn't really expect it to as they won't study apparition in school until next year, but he now knows that there's an anti-apparition wards as well and it snaps his fragile temper. Yelling and screaming and cursing, he grabs anything not nailed down and flings them at the door, enjoying the way his lamp smashes, antique trinkets break, books thud, pillows pile up and his chair loses a leg. He's panting hard now, tears of rage fogging his vision and he knows he's fucked.

Concentrating again, he shifts form, so that there is now an enormous black dog shedding hair where a teenage boy had just stood. It's a fairly recent achievement for him - he, James and Peter only managed a full shift around his birthday early in October - but he's spent enough time in this form to know that his emotions as a dog are far more muted than as a human, and he needs that right now.

He doesn't know how long he's been Padfoot, but he's startled by a loud _crack!_ as Kreacher appears in his room. By a stroke of luck that never happens for him in this house, Kreacher has apparated facing _away_ from him, giving him just enough time to shift back before the bigoted old elf discovers his secret. He can't afford his 'family' knowing anything more about him than they already do.

"Kreacher is bringing young Master his supper," the elf wheezes, inclining his head.

"I don't want it," Sirius replies immediately, instinct telling him not to trust anything while in this house.

"Kreacher is leaving it for young Master," the elf insists, placing the tray on the only thing Sirius didn't chuck at the door in his rage - his bed.

"I won't eat it." Kreacher ignores him, leaving the tray and apparating back out of the room. "I won't eat it!" Sirius shouts, wondering if anyone can hear him.

His stomach grumbles at the smell of food, but he knows what his parents are capable of, so he doesn't touch it. It wouldn't surprise him at all to find the food spiked with something and he even avoids the pitcher of water Kreacher brought with the tray. Instead, he opens his trunk, praying that there are some leftover snacks from the dormitory.

Another stroke of luck. He finds half a case of Butterbeer left over from the end-of-year party he and his mates threw and lots of snacks. Bags of crisps, candies, a few of those strange muggle cake things called Moon Pies - he hasn't actually tried one of those yet, he and James just thought it was hilarious when Lily gave Remus a box of them after he returned from a 'visit to his sick mother'. Sirius looks at his stash and decides he can make it. Presumably he'll be locked in here for the week and with a little brains and a lot of will-power, he'll make it through.

Popping open a bottle of Butterbeer, he takes a seat by his warded window, watching the world pass him by. The irony of his muggle-hating parents living in an exclusively muggle neighborhood doesn't escape him and he snorts to himself at the stupidity of blood status. Sirius is long past being confused about what he wants to believe in and he knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that when he leaves here this time, it will be the last time.

He'll take a chance and go to James', throw himself on their mercy until he's seventeen. He's got no other option. He can't stay with Remus - his parents are stretched thin as it is and his mother is actually sick now. He can't go to Pete's - the Pettigrews aren't as bad as the Blacks, but they're still way too pure-blooded for Sirius to be able to escape his parents' reach. No, it has to be the Potters'. If he does this properly, his parents will write him off, blast him off that idiotic tapestry like they did the only other decent member of his family - his cousin Andromeda.

Sirius would like to go to Andromeda's, but he doesn't know where she lives. They've lost touch since she was disowned. He tried to write her, but she suggested that it propbaly wasn't wise to keep up a correspondence while Sirius was under-age. He did hear, through the grapevine, that she'd had a baby, and that was another reason not to go see her. Sirius was too easy to trace at the moment and he would be damned if he led any of his relatives to Andy's house and put her baby in danger.

By the time the seventh day rolls around, he has a plan. It's a good plan - at least, it the best he can come up with with limited resources. Some time in the late afternoon, he feels the wards come down and his father opens the door. _Action,_ he thinks, as he stands and faces his father submissively. Step one: make Orion believe he'll play along.

"Good afternoon, Father," Sirius greets, his voice quiet and non-threatening.

Orion narrows his eyes. "Am I to presume that you have become amenable to your birthright?" he asks, casting a scrutinizing eye over his eldest son.

"I - I've had time to think, Father," Sirius stammers out, "and I have decided to do as you've asked."

"Commanded," Orion corrects him. "I do not ask you to do anything. You will do as I command as long as I am head of this House."

Sirius pauses. "Yes, Father," he responds, keeping his eyes downcast so Orion won't see the deceit. He wouldn't put it past the man to use Legilimency on him, even though he didn't know if his father was a Legilimens. At the moment, Sirius wasn't about to take that chance.

"We'll see," Orion concludes, after a moment that feels like an hour. "Get washed, get dressed. Our guests will start arriving within the hour." He turns and flicks his wand, summoning an expensive set of dress robes and dropping them on the bed, then he leaves the room and the wards go back up.

Sirius does as he's told. He washes and he dresses. The robes go on properly and he takes care to make sure he looks like the son of an old pureblood family. By the time Orion comes to collect him, Sirius is looking every inch the son he was supposed to be. His father places the family ring on his right ring finger and directs Sirius to follow him downstairs to begin greeting their guests.

He obeys and soon the house is filled with people he can't stand. He bows and kisses the air above ladies' hands and does not break a smile even once. Smiling is not the point. He's supposed to be looking for a match and his guests know it. Girls as young as eleven and grown women in their early twenties are present, each made up like porcelain dolls and he hates it. He does his best not to vomit and he succeeds, because this is step two of his plan: lower his father's suspicion.

All he has to do is get his father to believe that he's going to be a good enough boy that Orion won't have to watch him every second. Sirius needs approximately two minutes to slip out of Orion's sight, steal into the library and escape through the floo. He's already lightened and shrunken his trunk and broom, both of which are currently in his pockets as he twirls a snobbish pureblood witch with way too much make-up and perfume on.

Finally, as the party begins winding down and the first guests start leaving, he sees his chance. Asking permission to go to the loo, Sirius leaves the room calmly but, instead of heading upstairs to the bathroom, he sprints down the hall to the library. Opening the door quietly just in case someone's in there, he sneaks in, rushing to the fireplace. A pinch of floo powder is in his hand and the words that will take him to James' house are on his lips, but before he can throw the powder into the fire, a hand is on his shoulder, spinning him around.

His mother is standing there, regal in expensive robes, but cold, cruel - her lips pursed in hatred of him as he watches her put the pieces together. Without a word, she brings her hand up and backhands him so hard he topples over, falling onto the coffee table and then the floor. Sirius tastes blood on his lip as he sits up, his mother now between him and the fireplace and his eyes widen as she raises her wand.

_"Silencio,"_ she says and he is momentarily confused before she points her wand directly at him and cries, _"Crucio!"_

A scream rips from his throat as white-hot pain scorches through him. He's never felt anything like it before and Remus flashes before his eyes. He wonders if this is what the werewolf transformation feels like. The pain recedes and he blinks up at his mother, her wand lowered.

"I'm done teaching you, Sirius," she says coldly. "Now I'm going to punish you. Although, I must admit, it was a very Slytherin game you've played all night. Perhaps you're not all lion, after all. _Crucio!_ " she repeats and the pain is back, worse now.

Sirius thrashes and flails, his muscles moving involuntarily in an effort to escape the fire traveling through his body. His voice grows hoarse and he bites right through his tongue as she curses him twice, thrice more. After the fifth _Crucio_ , he vaguely hears her tell him that she'll be back, and she'll be bringing his father.

He whimpers and her lips twist in a sickening smirk. She leaves the room, confident that her curses have weakened him to the point that he won't try to leave. She's very nearly correct. It takes more will than strength for Sirius to turn his head slightly and see that, in his thrashing, he's tossed himself fairly close to the fire. He pulls out his wand and levitates the pot of floo powder to the floor, then he heaves himself up to his knees and crawls to the fire.

Reaching for the floo powder, his hand twitches - an effect of the Crucio - and he knocks it over. Cursing, he gathers some from the rug and throws it in, shouting _"Potter Manor!"_ and falling into the fire. Green flame envelops him and he loses sight of Grimmauld's library just as his mother returns. The last thing he hears is her shriek before tumbling out onto the Potters' sitting room hearth.

A different scream reaches his ears and moments later his face is being cradled in the loving hands of Euphemia Potter.

"Close... floo...," he forces out and she doesn't question him, she just does it. He looks up at her - mouth bleeding, cheek bruised, body twitching from the cruel treatment. "Mum," he says, deliberately using the word, "I need help." And the world goes black.

Hours later, Sirius wakes up to fingers gently carding through his hair. His eyes flutter open and James' mother smiles down at him. The smile is warm, but she looks as though she's been crying and his heart clenches because he knows he's the reason. His lips quirk up until the split opens again and he hisses. Mrs. Potter reaches over and grabs a familiar bottle off the nightstand. She places just the smallest amount of dittany on her thumb and runs her thumb over the cut, sealing the skin.

"Thank you," he rasps and she shushes him, then feeds him a few sips of water from the glass always kept by the bed. She replaces the glass and looks at him again, her lip trembling. She swallows hard and a tear falls down her cheek.

"My poor boy," she says, running her fingers through his hair again and he breaks.

Choking out a sob, he launches himself into her lap, his face twisting in emotional and physical agony as he buries his head in her skirts and cries. Really, truly cries. Sirius has never allowed himself to do that before, but once the floodgates open, he _has_ to get it all out. It's not optional. He cries, he sobs, he blubbers, leaving a disturbing amount of tears and snot on her clothing, but she holds him fast, stroking his hair and shoulders and telling him what a strong boy he's been and how she'll protect him from now on and how he'll never have to go back there.

She swears it on her life and on her magic and Sirius believes her. Merlin, help him, he believes her. And that makes him cry harder.

The sun is coming up before he's ready to pull away and daylight streams into his bedroom, illuminating the bags under both their eyes and the bruise still on Sirius' cheek. Mrs. Potter's hand ghosts over the injured area as Sirius finally slumps back into his pillows, still sniffling a little.

"Get some more sleep, darling," she says, getting up and walking to the door. Before she steps out of the room, she turns back to him. "Nothing will hurt you here," she says. "You're _my_ son now."

**Author's Note:**

> I send you all tissues.
> 
> Thanks for reading, Worthfull1


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